Broken relationship
by Kizmuth
Summary: Madam Bradley loved her son. Truly. She adored him. The woman would never allow harm to befall him no matter what. She had proved that in the past, and she would prove that in the future. Yet, even after the homunculus living within her son had been suppressed, expelled – as she hoped and believed – she sometimes hated him. So much that she resorted to tears.


Madam Bradley loved her son. Truly. She adored him. The woman would never allow harm to befall him no matter what. She had proved that in the past, and she would prove that in the future. Yet, even after the homunculus living within her son had been suppressed, expelled – as she hoped and believed – she sometimes hated him. So much that she resorted to tears.

He gave her a small smile as a child and she always returned it when his eyes were on her. When he turned away she would frown and look away. This was not the case always. Only at times when she saw the shadows on the walls move and her son not doing anything about it. As she would later find out, it was a subconscious thing on his part. Something he could not do anything about. Yet it angered her. It revolted her. Her son's actions repelled her; his being repelled her. He was nothing but a bio weapon in the eyes of the army. As he grew, Madam Bradley would realise how true that statement could be sometimes.

Perhaps the way the shadows stopped moving when they were in the same room later on proved that he knew. That he knew about her secret hatred for him but elected on saying nothing. Madam Bradley squeezed her hand and took in a sharp, short breath.

Selim looked at her with eyes filled with empathy and love. She didn't know if it was a lie or not anymore. He – It was such a good actor who knew if it had taken over a long time ago. When the shadows stopped moving in her presence. When her son – It – when IT gained enough sentience to stop the shadows.

''Mother, are you all right?'' The formality in his tone sent her back to the time before The Promised Day. She regretted breaking character in front of him. A smile returned to her features, even the most idiotic could tell she was faking it.

''I'm well, dear,'' said madam Bradley, her voice somewhat shaky. It was to be expected of her. She was growing rather old. Fragility was common among the elderly; save for her late husband the homunculus.

''Do you think we could go to a play this week? I hear there's a nice one on Friday...'' Selim's train of thought stopped when he noticed her eyes fixed on the somewhat flickering shadow. The shadow stopped moving. Madam Bradley glanced at him, her eyes tired and worn out, covered in a cloak of haze that was a sign for tears to come.

''I'm tired, Selim. I better go to bed, okay?'' His mother didn't wait on his answer. She was already at the stairs, moving rapidly for one so old. When she reached the top she heard a meek, ''Okay...'', coming from downstairs. Her heart ached at the hurt in his words.

She couldn't do it however. Madam Bradley could not do it. As much as she wished to make this work, it was proving impossible for her to continue raising someone – or something that was in truth a cold and calculative bio weapon.

Who was she to play God? She did not know what would happen, the army had warned her – Grumman had warned her of the consequences if Selim's behaviour went unnoticed. By their attitude about the whole ordeal her son would have been shot to death at the age of seven. Her gut twisted at that prospect. A small handful of tears began sliding down her cheeks in the privacy of her own room.

The door was locked, her shaky hands had managed that big of a feat on their own. She ought to celebrate. Her whimpers subsided when she heard pitter-pattering of footsteps belonging to none other than her child climbing up the stairs. Selim had grown into an emphatic young man of fifteen. He was the scholar type. Elicia and he were friends. That was the oddest friendship she had seen her son form. The tears slid silently. She squeezed her hands out of fear of letting out a whimper that could be heard by his acute hearing. That boy was still not as ordinary as she tried making him out to be.

Was he even Selim?

Was he her Selim?

She didn't know. It hurt not knowing.

Either way. She would not allow the army to harass him. Her fists clenched tighter out of sheer determination.

A small knock was heard on her door and she quickly wiped the tears away. One had to keep up with their image. She was not weak, especially not in front of her child. When she returned her composure she asked clearly, ''Yes, who is it?''

''May I come in, mother.'' Selim asked, scared. His voice was not the usual formal one, this one lacked the zest he had, the charismatic tone to it was lost in this conversation. Madam Bradley couldn't understand why. Then she heard him inhale quickly, as if trying to suppress sobs.

At a speed that would be considered hyperbolic in this comparison, Madam Bradley opened the door and hugged her son, wrapping her arms around him and cooing in his ear, ''We can go wherever you like.''

Selim returned the hug after understanding what had happened eagerly. He smiled, his eyes red and puffy, the cheeks of his stained with tears. The hug felt natural to them both, a way for the two of them to finally relax and admit that there was something severely wrong with their relationship, but would not be brought up due to the looming death threat issued by the army.

They both broke the hug and looked at each other.

There was something broken; it didn't mean it couldn't be mended. Not fixed – never fixed, but mended slowly; that they could certainly manage.

They smiled.


End file.
